A responsive shout came from out of the wood, and a thin, bent, cunning-looking man, with closely set, uneasy eyes, came quickly from amidst the hazels, which he parted with his hands, as he advanced. "Here's what you are seeking, lad. You are just in time. A brave girt fellow for you." "Where, where, Mas' Wat?" "He's just gone up yon bank into the bit of a coney-hole; and our gay Saint George there was whipping out his skewer to pook the dragon, and save Sir Thomas's fair daughter from his fangs, when I laughed, and sent the steel back into his sheath." "Let me pass you," said the new-comer eagerly, as stick in hand, and with a rabbit-skin wallet slung from his shoulder beneath his arm, he hastily came out into the lane, and, saluting the portly baronet and the lady, began to climb the bank. Sir Mark scowled at the smoker with a look full of resentment, but the latter replaced his pipe and gazed full at him with so keen and unblushing a stare that the young courtier was disconcerted. "Coarse boor!" he muttered, turning away with a contemptuous shrug. "Jack-a-dandy!" said the smoker to himself. Then aloud, "A fine day, Mas' Beckley. Save your worship, I beg pardon; it's Sir Thomas, now, is it not?" "Yes, Master Wat Kilby, it is," said the baronet, stiffly; and he coughed aloud, and gave the large cane he carried a thump on the ground as he turned to watch the proceedings of the new-comer. The lank rugged man took a step or two forward as well, to the great disgust of Sir Mark, who had held out his arm to the lady, to receive both her hands, as with an extensive display of alarm she stood shrinking away, while the thin, eager man went up the bank, pushing the branches and ferns aside with his stick, peering before him the while. There was something eminently foxy or weasel-like in his sharp, quick movements, giving him the aspect of one much accustomed to dealing with animal life as a trapper; and as he went on forcing his way through the tangled growth his actions formed sufficient attraction to cause all present to watch him intently. "I don't think he came out of yon hole, Mas' Churr," said the big man, emitting another puff of smoke, as if the weed he burned were precious. "Pook him with your stick." "Do you say it was a neddar, Mas' Kilby?" said the man in a harsh, husky voice; "or was it only a snake?" "An adder, Mas' Churr, and the bravest and biggest I've seen this year. That's the spot up yonder. By all the saints, I'd like to see him tackle one o' the girt fellows I've known out in the Indian Isles, long as a ship and big round as our mast." "Travellers' snakes," said Sir Mark, contemptuously. "Yes, my gay spark," said the old fellow, with his eyes lighting up and flashing; "or one of the great poisonous adders out in the West, with rattles in their tails, from whose bite a man dies in an hour."